


In A Teapot

by taichara



Category: Rockman | Mega Man Classic
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-29
Updated: 2014-08-29
Packaged: 2018-02-15 08:09:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2221776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taichara/pseuds/taichara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even the most wandering of feet need to take shelter at times.  Luckily for Blues, he's gotten pretty good at it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In A Teapot

**Author's Note:**

> _prompt: any, any, the sound of rain on the tin roof_

_Now where did I put – aha._  
  
 _There, that’s better. I suppose it doesn’t hurt to be careful, self, but stop losing things when you put them in ‘safe’ places._  
  
Half the city might have been ready to be half-drowned, but Blues was no fool. He disliked rain, at best; it slicked his hair to his head, and – worse – beaded off his synthetic flesh in ways that made him all too obviously unhuman. Combine that with moisture’s annoying ability to seep in where it most definitely did _not_ belong and, well …  
  
 _One date with rust patches was one too many, thank you very much._  
  
He wasn’t much worried this time, though. So far no one with a thinking brain had bothered to inspect his chosen warehouse and the tumble of shipping crates shoved in its westernmost corner, and Blues had cheerfully made himself at home in a snug cubby hemmed in by said crates and half-unwound bales of industrial netting. E-Tanks he kept topped up in a small pile (pilfering from Wily’s compounds was just the gift that kept on giving); borrowed and bartered, mismatched clothing scattered about combined with salvaged electronics and scavenged tools made the nook a little less gunmetal dull.  
  
Now if the new cord worked as well as the old one, he’d be set.  
  
 _Too bad the critter did itself in chewing on the old one. I think._  
  
Done in or not, the rodent had gnawed through Blues’ previous power cable and he was desperately glad he’d stashed a spare. Oh, he knew his limitations; that wretched core flaw would get him in the end, he didn’t doubt it for a moment – which meant a few precautions.  
  
Settling back into a nest of clothing and packing debris, he cocked his head and listened while weather feeds scrolled across the spiderwebbed screen of the tablet in his lap. The storm rattled and wailed, a sharp rhythm against the soaring frame of the warehouse rafters above his head, resonant and booming – strong, but not too strong, and passing over quickly. Safe enough to use the cord, his too-fragile lifeline.  
  
Setting the tablet aside, he pulled up his worn shirt and tugged open first the hidden seams of the bodysuit beneath, then the paneling so faintly outlined on his abdomen. With his other hand he unspooled the translucent cable, found the proper end for the wall-socket within easy reach, plugged it into place … and then, with a self-mocking little smile, jacked the input into the exposed port inside his solar plexus. Within moments his diagnostics fired up and reported back the slow but reassuring recharge of his feeble core, and Blues let his joints loosen and unlock, sagging gratefully into the pile.  
  
 _One of these days this trick’s not going to work …_  
  
That was later; that was the future. For now, he was content to recharge and relax and catch up on himself, even if he _was_ tethered to a wall while he did it.  
  
Closing his eyes and tuning up his audio, he settled in to listen to the storm, the rattle and buster-shot of huge raindrops against metal, the whistling of the wind. It was surprisingly relaxing; always was, really. Like music, unplanned music.  
  
What else could he ask for?


End file.
